


Gravity is a Cruel Mistress

by quiet__tiger



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Close call, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 22:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10796436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: Nightwing and Robin have a close call.





	Gravity is a Cruel Mistress

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Free-fall."
> 
> Originally posted to Livejournal 12th-Nov-2009.

“No!” Before Robin’s brain can even quite consciously register what happens, he’s already shooting his own line onto a neighboring flagpole and leaping off the roof.

Thousands of old, ugly gargoyles used thousands of times as anchors for the grapple lines of Batman and his crew, and tonight Nightwing has to aim for a flagpole that pulls itself loose from the wall.

Pole, flag, and vigilante plummet towards the street, Nightwing’s line and the WayneTech flag twisting around him and inhibiting his movement. Robin knows that if Nightwing were able to shoot another line somewhere, he would have as soon as the pole wrenched loose.

Clipping the grapple gun to his belt, Robin tucks himself in as best he can to reduce air resistance, and prays that his anchor holds his and Nightwing’s weight.

If he gets to Nightwing in time.

Which he won’t unless one or both of them defy gravity.

The wind pushes hard against his hair as he falls head first, and he struggles to unclasp his cape. Every little bit will help.

Then Nightwing! Nightwing manages to twist himself around onto his stomach and spreads out his limbs, catching the flag as he does to provide more wind resistance.

Just as Robin is about to reach Nightwing, he spares a thought about how long his grapple line is. Too short and he’ll be jerked back before catching Nightwing. Too long and they’ll both smash into the pavement anyway. He’s sure it’s the hundred foot line, but… He has to stop the line when he catches Nightwing. Has to make sure he catches Nightwing and engages the catch on the gun…

Has to make sure neither of them gets impaled by the flagpole…

At nearly seventy miles an hour Robin crashes into Nightwing, wrapping his arms and legs around him and somehow engaging the catch on the grapple gun at the same time.

The line catches, jerking Robin nearly into two pieces as it holds his and Nightwing’s weight. Two vigilantes, a flag, and a pole slam into the side of the building, cracking a window. Nightwing opens his hands just enough to let the flag, pole, and his line fall to the ground, then clamps his arms around Robin’s where they tightly grip his chest.

Panting heavily, Robin and Nightwing swing gently, each shivering just a little. Finally Nightwing asks, “Hundred foot cable?”

“Yeah.” Robin lets out the final twenty feet of line, and, after setting the gun to wind up the cable and unclipping it from his belt, they drop the final ten feet to the ground. “We’ll go back and get it in a minute.”

“Yeah.” Nightwing seems to finally catch his breath, and he asks, “Of all the damn flagpoles in this city that I had to choose to use tonight, why did it have to be that one?”

Not wanting to answer, not being able to answer, Robin quietly replies, “Because tonight I was with you.” _And could catch you_ is left unsaid, but they both understand. Understand how close they were tonight, to losing Nightwing and maybe even both of them.

So many things to go wrong, so many things to think about in less than seven seconds. A lifetime went by for Robin in less time than it took for his television to warm up all the way. He promptly turns and vomits on the sidewalk.

“Hey. Robin.” Nightwing rubs his back. “I’m okay. We both are.”

“Too close.”

“I know.”

They stand for another minute or so, each getting his bearings on their close call. Finally Nightwing collects his line, and also Robin’s cape, which had fluttered down next to them. Robin straightens again and suggests, “We should get my gun. And call someone to fix this pole.” He nudges it with his boot.

“And clean the flag. Thing saved my life. We’ll have to tell B about the quality flags. And crappy poles.” He squeezes Robin’s shoulder. “But it saved me only because you were there to give it the chance.”

No thank you is necessary, but Robin still feels compelled to say, “You’re welcome.”

By unspoken agreement, they both turn and go inside the building to head to the roof. They take the elevator this time, as they will to return to the street. They can get back on the horse—grapple line—tomorrow.


End file.
